The Immortal Civil Servant
by SherlockianWhovian
Summary: An accident leaves Mycroft changed forever...
1. Chapter 1

It had been an accident, just a single slip in security that on any other day would have had no impact at all.

The burning pain as the teeth of the detained man sank into his arm was a shock, but he held still and allowed his bodyguards to wrestle the man away from him. He immediately left the interrogation room and walked rapidly back to his office, ignoring the stinging pain as best he could.

"Mr Holmes." Anthea called after him, jogging a little to keep up with the tall man's strides, "Mr Holmes, stop. You're bleeding."

Mycroft ignored her worried words until they were safely hidden away inside his office.

Anthea got the first aid kit out from one of the filing cabinets and began to unpack it on the desk. She had basic medical training and was more than capable of dealing with a bleeding bite mark.

Mycroft gasped a little, his hand forming a fist as he tried to breathe through the burning pain that seemed to be working its way up his arm.

"Are you alright?" Anthea asked gently, carefully dabbing alcohol disinfectant against the bleeding wound on his arm.

"I don't know. My arm feels strange. Like it's burning." Mycroft admitted, tensing his muscles again as the burning seared through him.

"Maybe it's an infection?" Anthea suggested.

"If so then it's a fast-moving infection." Mycroft murmured, watching her clean the wound.

"I'll give you a shot to stop anything from taking hold." Anthea replied, "This bite is nasty, he really sank his teeth in."

"I'm going to call it a day, I think. I'm already late and Gregory will be waiting for me." Mycroft said, holding still so she could wrap a bandage around his arm.

"I'll finish off the paperwork from today." Anthea assured, stepping back and letting go of him once she was done with his arm.

"What would I do without you?" Mycroft asked with a smile as he pulled on his suit jacket and then his coat.

"You wouldn't be able to move for paperwork, that's for sure." Anthea replied with a teasing wink, "Have a good night, boss. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Anthea." Mycroft said with a nod, collecting up his umbrella and briefcase before he made his way out of the office.

* * *

"What time do you call this?" came Gregory's voice from the kitchen as Mycroft shut and locked the front door behind him.

"Sorry, I'm late." Mycroft called back, taking a moment to hang up his umbrella and coat in the hall before he made his way through to the kitchen.

"I made dinner. It's just about done, which is very lucky for you." Gregory replied, turning to face with his partner.

"Would you have saved me any?" Mycroft asked, pecking his partner's lips as he moved past him.

"Definitely not. You would have been forced to make your own dinner." Gregory replied with a smile.

"A fitting punishment." Mycroft agreed as he poured himself a glass of wine.

"How was work?" Gregory asked, leaning against the counter.

"Tedious." Mycroft admitted with a sigh, "If only I could have had my wonderful partner bring me lunch."

"I do have a career as well, you know." Gregory laughed softly, "Sit down, Mr British Government, your dinner is ready."

Mycroft sat down at the kitchen table, placing his wine down carefully. His arm was still burning, but he was determined to ignore it and focus on his partner's cooking.

"You look a little peaky. Did you hurt yourself at work?" Gregory asked, recognizing the signs of a hidden injury as brought the plates over and he sat down.

"It's nothing, just a scratch. Anthea dealt with it for me." Mycroft assured, picking up his cutlery and tucking into the meal.

* * *

"Ah! Close the curtains!" Mycroft gasped, the sun's rays burning his skin as Gregory threw open the curtains in the morning.

"What? Are you alright?" Gregory asked worriedly, watching his partner throw the duvet over himself to escape the sun's rays. He closed the curtains quickly and then climbed back onto the bed.

"I can't explain the feeling, Gregory. It was truly painful to have the sun beaming down on my skin like that." Mycroft admitted, moving out from under the duvet.

"Is this to do with your mystery injury?" Gregory asked, pointedly looking at Mycroft's bandaged arm, "You weren't injected with a test drug, were you?"

"As if I'd let myself get tested on in Baskerville." Mycroft scoffed, but couldn't resist the urge to glance down at the bandage too. He'd felt strange ever since he'd received the bite mark.

"Maybe you should take a day off? Stress can often cause hypersensitivity to light." Gregory suggested gently, "You have been working long hours."

"I've worked long hours since before we met, Gregory. Stress isn't new to me." Mycroft replied.

"I know, but stress building up over a long period of time can cause breakdowns." Gregory pointed out.

"Are you suggesting that I'm having a breakdown?" Mycroft asked with a frown.

"No, I'm suggesting that you need to spend a day in bed with your phone turned off." Gregory replied, leaning over and kissing Mycroft, "I have to go to work. Text Anthea and tell her you're having a sick day."

"Where's the fun in having a sick day if I'm on my own?" Mycroft pouted, pulling Gregory closer.

"No, I'm not playing that game. I need to go and babysit your brother." Gregory murmured, gently freeing himself from Mycroft's hold, "Stay in bed and sleep. You'll feel better afterwards."

"Have a good day, dear." Mycroft sighed, letting Gregory get off the bed.

"I expect dinner to be on the table when I return." Gregory teased, winking at Mycroft before he left the bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

After Gregory had left for work, Mycroft sent Anthea a text to let her know that he wasn't feeling well and that he'd be working from home. He couldn't have a proper day off without giving the office significant prior notice as he was too important in the day-to-day work.

With a sigh, he forced himself out of bed and into the bathroom. He unwound the bandage from his arm and paused in thought when he saw that the wound had already healed, leaving nothing but a faded scar. Just 12 hours ago it had been a deep, bleeding wound but now it was gone. Mycroft ran a finger over the scar before he looked at himself in the mirror. He didn't look very different, maybe just a little more pale than usual. He leaned into the mirror, meeting his own gaze as he studied his pupils. There was something different about them. His eyes were usually a blue-grey colour but they appeared to have hints of red in now.

"Perhaps I have got an infection after all?" he murmured to himself, taking a step back away from the mirror again. He swallowed and frowned, suddenly becoming aware of a strange ache in his throat. He poured himself a glass of water and drank it quickly, but the water seemed to have no effect on his apparent thirst. With a shake of his head, he put down the glass and turned away from the mirror, putting the matter out of his mind.

* * *

The ache in his throat seemed to be growing in intensity as the day went on. Mycroft was currently sat in his home office, attempting - and failing - to keep his attention solely on the paperwork in front of him. He was swallowing regularly now, multiple times a minute as he tried to clear the feeling. He'd drunk all of the bottled water in the house, half a bottle of orange juice and even some whiskey in a desperate attempt to make the ache dissipate. He's next plan was to take some flu medication, but Mycroft hated how drowsy it made him.

"Mr Holmes!" came the shrill voice of the housekeeper as she entered the hall, "I have brought you some lunch."

Mycroft inhaled and found his mouth watering at the delightful scent that was radiating from the hall. He couldn't work out what the scent was but it was perfect and he needed it. It was like a delicious roast dinner, or a plate of sticky danish pastries - utterly enticing. Mycroft put his pen down with more force than he intended and rose from his chair. His thoughts seemed to blur as he moved, completely enraptured by the scent that now seemed to fill the room.

"Good morning, Mr Holmes. It has been many weeks since I last saw you." the housekeeper greeted with a warm smile, "Mr Lestrade informed me that you were feeling unwell so I've brought you some soup and that cheese and jalapeno bread that you like."

Mycroft paused at the other end of the hall as he laid eyes on his housekeeper. The luscious, intoxicating scent was still calling to him and he struggled to make sense of what she'd said to him. Surely it couldn't be the soup that smelt so good, could it?

"Mr Holmes?" the housekeeper repeated, slowly approaching him, "Perhaps you should sit down? You don't look well."

Mycroft realized with a sudden clarity that it wasn't the soup that smelt enticing - it was _her_. He backed away from her until his back came into contact with the wall. He tried to blink, to look away, but his eyes were fixed on her neck. She smelt so good and he wanted to devour her. He wanted to sink his teeth into her flesh and it terrified him.

"You should go home, Mrs Jones." he finally managed to say, struggling to make his throat work through the burning ache.

"Mr Holmes, I really insist that you sit down. You look quite unsteady on your feet." Mrs Jones said, approaching him and taking his arm, "Come along, let's sit you down in the kitchen."

Mycroft allowed himself to be led into the large kitchen, struggling to contain himself. He was shocked by the complete lack of control he seemed to have over this strange thirst, but he desperately wanted to sate it. He was _so hungry_.

Mrs Jones placed the carrier bag down on the kitchen surface, turning away from him for just a moment - but a moment was all he needed. He grabbed her and pulled her close, sniffing at her neck for a moment before he bit into her. She screamed and fought against his grip, but he was stronger. He gorged himself, draining her of every drop. He was slow to drain her, driven only by instinct and lacking skill. He knew the moment that there was no more blood to be had and he let go of her, watching passively as her cold corpse hit the floor.

The painful feeling of hunger was gone and Mycroft felt like he was flying. He felt strong and healthy and shockingly happy, the warm blood filling his stomach and seeming to spread through his body. It was minutes before he managed to gain control of himself again. He looked down and all happiness faded when he realized what he'd done. He'd killed a woman - his housekeeper, of all people - in his own kitchen. He looked down at himself and found her blood all over him. His grey suit was stained red and his hands and face were wet with blood.

Mycroft sank to the floor beside the dead woman, unable to comprehend what he'd done. He was a monster. A killer. _A murderer_.


	3. Chapter 3

"Mycroft, I'm home!" Gregory called as he entered the large house that he shared with the government official. He took no notice of the lack of answer as he removed his coat and hung it up on the coat stand. His partner often lost himself in his work so Gregory wasn't surprised that there was no meal waiting for him on the table when he returned home.

Gregory went into the kitchen and flicked the light on. He came to a sudden halt as he came around the kitchen island and found himself face to face with a bloodstained Mycroft and a dead housekeeper.

"Oh my God!" he gasped, rushing over to kneel beside his partner, "Mycroft? Are you alright?"

"It's not my blood." Mycroft murmured, his whole body tense and still.

"What happened?" Gregory asked, taking his hand and trying not to look at the body.

"I killed her." Mycroft replied, his voice soft, "She brought me lunch and I killed her."

"What? How?" Gregory demanded, "Please don't tell me that you've been sat beside her body since this morning?"

"I couldn't move, not after what I did. I need to be locked away, Gregory. I'm a monster." Mycroft said, fear suddenly filling his eyes, "You need to go. You need to get away before I hurt you too!"

"Mycroft, calm down." Gregory urged, "Just tell me what happened. How did you kill her?"

"She smelt so good. So enticing. I was so thirsty, Gregory, and I just couldn't help myself. I needed to have her, to devour her." Mycroft tried to explain, his mouth watering as he remembered that delicious scent, "I couldn't control myself. I bit her and drank down all of her blood."

"You...bit...her?" Gregory repeated, glancing over Mycroft and then to the bite mark on the dead woman's neck.

"I needed her blood. I craved it." Mycroft replied, "What have I done? I've ruined everything! I'm a murderer, Gregory!"

"Okay. It's alright. We'll sort this out." Gregory assured, trying to be soothing, "Stay there. I'm going to call Sherlock, okay?"

"No! You can't, Gregory! You can't bring Sherlock here, you can't put him in danger!" Mycroft protested.

"Calm down." Gregory said gently, squeezing his partner's hand, "Do you feel the need to hurt me? Do you feel...thirsty...right now?"

"No." Mycroft admitted, "The thirst left me as soon as her blood hit my lips."

"Okay, then there's no immediate threat." Gregory assured, "Just stay sitting here while I go and make a phone call."

Mycroft nodded and rested his head in his hands as he listened to Gregory go back out into the hall. His life was over, he'd be put into prison for murder and he'd never be freed.

* * *

" _Do you want something, Graham?_ " Sherlock asked as he answered his phone with his usual sneer.

"I need you and John to get over to Mycroft's right now." Gregory replied as calmly as he could, "Mycroft's had some kind of breakdown."

" _Has he eaten all of the cakes?_ " Sherlock teased.

"No, Sherlock, this is serious." Gregory replied, keeping his voice quiet, "Mycroft is sat in the kitchen next to the body of our housekeeper and he's telling me that he killed her."

" _We'll be right over._ " Sherlock replied after a slight pause, ending the call.

* * *

"Sherlock and John are on their way over." Gregory said as he kneeled down beside Mycroft again.

"This is it, Gregory." Mycroft murmured, "I've finally snapped."

"Don't say that." Gregory replied gently, reaching out rubbing his back.

"You shouldn't touch me." Mycroft said, pulling away from his partner's touch, "They'll need my clothes for forensic evidence."

Gregory sighed and moved away, leaning against the cupboards. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't think of anything calming or soothing to say to Mycroft. If the elder Holmes brother was the killer then Gregory knew that he wouldn't be able to protect him. Mycroft would need to be arrested, tried and imprisoned. Gregory also knew that imprisonment would probably send Mycroft mad and he feared that more than anything at all.

They sat in silence, staring passively at the body of their housekeeper.

* * *

"He's in the kitchen. He's in a bit of a state." Gregory said quietly to Sherlock and John as he let them in.

Sherlock went straight into the kitchen but came to a halt when he saw his brother and the dead woman.

John came to a stop beside his flatmate, gasping slightly at the sight before him.

"I don't know where you want to start." Gregory murmured, standing awkwardly a few feet away.

Sherlock moved forward, temporarily ignoring the body as he focused on his brother.

"Don't come too close. I'm not convinced that I am in control." Mycroft murmured, glancing over at Sherlock.

"You did this." Sherlock stated with a sigh, glancing at the housekeeper, "You drank her blood."

Mycroft nodded, "I don't know what came over me." he replied, "It was a moment of madness."

"Drinking that much blood should have made you ill. Have you vomited?" Sherlock asked, trying to be as gentle as possible.

"No." Mycroft replied, suddenly looking distressed, "I don't feel ill. I feel healthy. Sherlock, I felt good after I'd killed her. I was _smiling_."

Sherlock nodded a little and looked to John, indicating that he should come closer.

John moved forwards and came to a halt beside Sherlock, "Can I take a look at you, Mycroft?" he asked.

Mycroft nodded, "I must warn you that the madness could come again." he said.

John moved around Sherlock and kneeled beside Mycroft, gently taking his arm and feeling for a pulse. He frowned when he couldn't find one. He moved his fingers to Mycroft's neck and tried again to find a pulse.

"What is it, Doctor?" Mycroft asked.

"You don't have a pulse." John murmured, placing his hand on the government official's chest, "Your heart isn't beating."


	4. Chapter 4

"Are you saying that Mycroft is dead?" Gregory asked John, a frown on his face.

"His heart isn't beating. Not even a little bit. It's completely still." John replied, his stethoscope pressed against Mycroft's chest.

"How is that possible?" Gregory murmured, looking from Sherlock to John, "How can he be dead but still sat here talking to us?"

"When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." Sherlock murmured under his breath, "It appears to me that Mycroft has become some sort of vampire."

"A vampire? But that is the very definition of impossible!" Gregory argued as he paced around the kitchen.

Mycroft remained sat on the floor, completely motionless. Occasionally he looked up, his eyes seeking out Gregory, but he mostly kept his vision fixed on the floor.

"It's not impossible." the government official murmured, his voice so low that it would have been missed had the kitchen not been completely silent.

"Are you telling me that vampires exist?" Gregory demanded with a barked laugh.

"I am telling you that there are many mysteries in our world that have no logical meaning but still exist." Mycroft replied.

"You were bitten, weren't you? On your arm." Gregory practically hissed, walking over and tugging Mycroft's sleeve up his arm to expose the scar.

Mycroft nodded, "The man we had in custody managed to reach me before my bodyguards could stop him. It was a momentary slip."

"Were you aware of his condition?" John asked Mycroft cautiously.

Mycroft sighed and shook his head, "My team were convinced that he suffered from a form of psychosis."

"We need to call someone." Gregory sighed, looking down at the housekeeper, "We can't cover this up."

"Call Anthea." Mycroft said, looking up at his partner, "Tell her it's a code Burgundy. She'll understand."

"Surely you don't have a code for if you get turned into a supernatural creature?" John demanded with raised eyebrows.

"No, but Burgundy is the most relevant code." Mycroft replied, "Call Anthea before you call anyone else. Please."

"Alright." Gregory said, pulling out his phone and dialing Anthea's number.

" _Hi Greg, how are you?_ " Anthea's welcoming voice answered.

"I'm at home and Mycroft told me to say that it's a code Burgundy." Gregory said, glancing at Mycroft.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line and Gregory wondered if the line had dropped.

" _I'll be right over._ " Anthea replied, all warmth gone from her voice.

"What's code Burgundy?" Gregory asked as he put his phone away in his pocket.

"It's the code I prayed that I'd never have to use." Mycroft replied, staring down at his bloodstained hands.

"What does it mean?" Gregory asked, "What is going to happen?"

"It means that I've been compromised. That I'm a threat and can no longer be trusted. That I need to be removed from office and public life so I can't reveal any state secrets." Mycroft explained quietly, "It's the final solution."

"Death?" John gasped in horror.

"No, a fate worse than death." Sherlock murmured, "Life imprisonment."

* * *

"Where is Mr Holmes?" Anthea demanded as she entered the kitchen and glanced around at the three men who were stood there.

"Here." Mycroft replied from behind his PA.

Anthea spun around, immediately pulling out her gun and pointing it at his head, "Hands where I can see them!" she ordered.

Mycroft raised his hands, "I required a shower and a change of clothes. I have no intention of being taken away covered in blood." he explained.

"Tell me what happened." Anthea ordered, indicating for him to join the others in the kitchen.

Mycroft explained what happened as calmly as possible, keeping his arms raised to show that he wasn't armed and had no plans to make any sudden movements.

"You were right to call code Burgundy." Anthea said after she'd heard the story, her gun still trained on her boss, "I have no option but to take you in."

Mycroft nodded a little, "I thought as much." he agreed, "I do apologize Anthea, this whole situation is terribly inconvenient."

Anthea approached and gently handcuffed him, "Mycroft Holmes, I am detaining you under Section 3 of the Mental Health Act 1983." she said, "You will initially be detained for a period of 6 months as you are a threat to yourself and others. Do you understand?"

"I do." Mycroft replied with a nod.

"You're detaining him for what exactly?" Sherlock demanded, "If Mycroft has been changed into a vampire then no amount of mental health treatment is going to help him."

"Psychosis." Anthea replied as if it was obvious, "Mr Holmes is clearly suffering from hallucinations and delusions."

"Psychosis isn't transferred by bites!" Sherlock argued, "Mycroft, tell her!"

Mycroft stayed silent, refusing to support either side in the argument.

"You'll go mad in an institution. You know that as well as I do, brother." Sherlock said, "Once they get their claws into you, you'll never be free."

"It is necessary." Mycroft replied in a strangely blank voice before Anthea led him out of his large house.


	5. Chapter 5

After Mycroft had been taken away, the clean-up crew arrived. They removed the body and scrubbed the kitchen clean until there was no blood or evidence to be found.

Gregory sat at the breakfast bar, watching them work. Just 24 hours ago everything had been fine, but now it had all gone wrong. Mycroft was to be imprisoned indefinitely and Gregory was left alone in the large, cold house.

* * *

"I want to see him. I want to set up a visitation schedule of some kind." Gregory said, sitting opposite Anthea in the living room.

"I'll see what I can do." Anthea replied. She'd come to the house to retrieve Mycroft's computers and any files he'd taken home with him.

"How is he coping?" Gregory asked, "Does he have access to books? Or something to keep him occupied?"

"Greg, I can't discuss this with you." Anthea sighed, "It's confidential."

"I'm listed on his medical records as his emergency contact, Anthea!" Gregory snapped, "It's been two weeks now and I've still heard nothing!"

Anthea sighed again, considering her options, "Mycroft is currently being assessed. The assessment process takes four weeks and in that time he can't have visitors or access to external influences."

"So he's just sitting there? You know as well as I do that boredom will make his condition appear even worse." Gregory replied.

"He's spent the last two weeks in his mind. His heart has stopped, technically he is dead, so he doesn't need to eat or drink." Anthea explained.

"What will happen when he starts needing blood again?" Gregory demanded, "Do you still think he's suffering from psychosis?"

"I don't know what to think or believe, Greg." Anthea admitted, "This whole situation is unparalleled."

"He's at a secret base somewhere, isn't he? You lot are just watching him like he's a lab rat." Gregory muttered.

"I have to go." Anthea admitted, getting to her feet, "Nothing will be done to harm Mycroft. We just want to understand his condition."

"I want to see him, Anthea." Gregory repeated again, standing up, "Even if it's just through glass. I want to see him with my own eyes."

Anthea nodded, "I know, I'll arrange it." she replied. She left the house quietly, carrying two laptops and some files.

* * *

"Isn't this a bit excessive?" Gregory asked as he was searched at the third security checkpoint on their route through Baskerville.

"Precautions must be made to stop things getting in to or out of the base." Anthea replied as she too was searched.

Gregory rolled his eyes, "Mycroft set this up after Sherlock broke in, didn't he?"

"No comment." Anthea replied with a wink.

Gregory sighed and shook his head, following her as they were allowed further into the base. He'd been forced to leave all of his belongings in the car and he didn't like the idea of being stuck in the base without his phone.

"Here we are." Anthea said, swiping her card on a reader and pushing open a door.

Gregory stepped into the room and gasped slightly. It was a large space that contained a giant glass box. Around the edge of the box were computer screens, showing CCTV feeds. Inside the box was Mycroft. He was sat in the middle with his eyes shut, looking completely relaxed despite the fact he'd been in complete isolation for three weeks.

"Can he see us? Or hear us?" Gregory asked, walking over to the glass.

"No. The glass is soundproofed and on his side it looks like a normal cell rather than an observation cell." Anthea replied. She dismissed the staff members who were in the room, leaving only the two of them and two guards.

"You can reveal yourselves now." she murmured, glancing at the two guards.

"It's not much of a reveal, we're barely in disguise." Sherlock said, removing his hat.

John removed his own hat and put down the weapon he'd been holding.

"What are you two doing here?" Gregory demanded, turning to face Sherlock and John. In his eagerness to see Mycroft, he hadn't even noticed the two guards.

"My brother has just become a vampire, I'm hardly going to walk away from that case." Sherlock replied with a raised eyebrow.

"Has he shown any signs of erratic behaviour?" John asked, walking over to one of the screens.

"He was pacing this morning but seems to have settled again now." Anthea replied, pulling up the footage of Mycroft carefully pacing around the square cell.

"It's just an act." Sherlock said, watching the footage, "While he's in there on his own, he can ignore the thirst. If he was in there with one of us then he'd lose control."

"Perhaps one of us should go in there and talk to him?" John suggested, "I mean, all of this observation footage is hardly worth anything if he's able to control himself so well."

"I'll be the bait." Gregory volunteered, "I haven't seen him in three weeks."

"You're looking at him right now." Sherlock pointed out.

"You know what I mean." Gregory replied, "Looking at him through glass is hardly the same as being in the same room with him."

"Take a tranquiliser gun in with you." Anthea advised, "If he gets too close, you might need it."

"Thanks." Gregory said, taking the gun from her.

* * *

Mycroft's whole body tensed as Gregory entered his cell. After days of ignoring the ache in his throat, he'd almost forgotten the intoxicating scent of human blood.

"You shouldn't be in here." he murmured, forcing himself to remain still.

"Neither should you." Gregory replied, "Can I come closer? It feels like it's been a lifetime since I last touched you."

"I don't know if I can control myself." Mycroft admitted.

"You're already controlling yourself, just keep doing whatever it is you're doing." Gregory said with a slight chuckle.

"Oh Gregory, how I've missed you." Mycroft replied with a slight smile. He slowly got to his feet and turned to face his partner.

"I'm going to come closer." Gregory said, inching forward.

"Be careful." Mycroft warned, trying to ignore the scent of his blood.

"It's alright, you won't hurt me." Gregory replied, taking slow steps forward until they were within half a metre of one another.

"Why are you here? You should be afraid of me." Mycroft said, slowly reaching out and taking Gregory's hand.

"I love you, Mycroft. I don't care what you've become." Gregory replied, carefully reaching out and hugging his partner.

Mycroft hugged him back, closing his eyes and breathing in the DI's scent. He tried to memorize it and to mark it as safe. He was so thirsty, but every part of him was screaming not to hurt the human in his arms.

"As sweet as this display is, I've got important questions for you, brother mine." Sherlock's voice came from the doorway.

A loud growl erupted from Mycroft as he pulled Gregory closer - his instincts suddenly telling him to protect his partner.

"Don't attack, it's okay, it's just Sherlock." Greg soothed, "Breathe in his scent. Get used to it. You can't hurt Sherlock."

"Sherlock? Forgive me. For a moment, I didn't recognize you." Mycroft admitted after a few moments of tense silence, "What questions do you have?"

"How about we all sit down?" Gregory suggested, "If we're all sitting, we can have a proper chat."

Mycroft sat back down again and Gregory sat beside him, keeping their hands joined.

Sherlock watched them and then sat down opposite them, "Can you tell me what's happening in your mind, Mycroft?"

"I hope you're not attempting to give me therapy." Mycroft replied with a raised eyebrow.

Sherlock laughed, "No, nothing of the sort. I just want to understand your thought processes."

"Very well." Mycroft replied, closing his eyes as he opened the door into his mind, "It is as though a beast is roving through my mind. Most of the time I can control it, to keep it and its instincts in one room, but when the thirst gets to be too much, the beast is free."

"How are you dealing with what you did?" Sherlock asked curiously.

"It is very difficult to accept that I murdered a woman in order to drink her blood." Mycroft replied sharply, "But I am not in denial. I have had plenty of time to think all of this over. I clearly need blood to survive so I must work to prevent any further deaths."

"You're doing really well with this." Gregory said with a sad smile.

"It is reassuring that I can make the beast understand that certain humans are off limits. Now I have categorized you both as safe, your scents do not seem to be as enticing to me as they were earlier." Mycroft replied.

"Let's rack up the tension a bit then." Sherlock said, pulling out a vial of blood from his coat. He placed it on the floor between them.

"It's in a sealed vial, Sherlock, that's hardly enticing." Mycroft replied with a slight sneer.

"My mistake." Sherlock replied. He pulled the stopper out of the vial and poured the blood out onto the floor between them.

"Sherlock, this is cruel." Gregory hissed.

Mycroft reached out towards the blood but didn't touch it. He looked up at his brother, deducing him.

"You just made a mistake, brother dear." he said.

"Oh?" Sherlock asked, "What mistake?"

"I now know that you have blood hidden away in your coat." Mycroft replied. He waited a second or two for Sherlock to catch on before he dived at his brother and pinned him to the floor.


	6. Chapter 6

"Mycroft, stop! Don't hurt him!" Gregory shouted, getting to his feet.

"I'm not going to hurt him." Mycroft replied with a roll of his eyes.

"You always did like play fighting." Sherlock teased his brother.

"That's because I always won." Mycroft replied, letting go of Sherlock's wrists so he could remove 5 vials of blood and 1 blood bag from his brother's coat.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and stayed still, waiting for Mycroft to let him up.

"You did come prepared." Mycroft murmured, letting his brother up and looking down at the items in his hands. He briefly considered drinking the blood but decided against it. He threw the vials and the bag at one of the walls, smiling a little as they snapped and released their contents all over the floor.

"You're not going to drink the blood? But I thought you were thirsty?" Gregory asked, coming to stand beside his partner.

"I am thirsty, but I'm also just as interested by the results of this assessment as everyone else." Mycroft replied, "It's an opportunity to learn about my new form."

"You're going to starve yourself for an experiment?" Gregory said with a raised eyebrow.

"I need to know my limits. I need to know how long I can go without blood. I need to know what happens." Mycroft replied, "I'm just as in the dark about vampirism as you are, Gregory."

"Isn't that dangerous though?" Gregory asked, "You could hurt yourself or someone else."

"As long as I am kept detained and isolated, no one else should be at risk." Mycroft replied, "Now, with respect, I need to get back to my experiment. Thank you for visiting, do try to look terrified of the vampire as you leave."

"I'll see you soon." Gregory said, leaning up and kissing his partner, "I love you."

"I love you too, Gregory." Mycroft replied with a smile, watching him go with sad eyes.

Sherlock nodded to his brother before he too left the cell.

* * *

Seven weeks. That's how long it had been since Mycroft had been taken away. Gregory had expected to feel lonely, but he hadn't expected to feel such a desperate need for his partner. Getting up in the morning was a challenge, as he knew he'd be returning to an empty house. Weekends when he wasn't working were the worst. He'd spend hours sat on the stairs, looking up at the painting of Mycroft that hung on the wall beside the paintings of his ancestors. It was recent, just finished a few months ago, and it was the closest thing that Gregory had to his beloved. Once or twice he'd even sat in the walk-in-wardrobe, feeling closer to Mycroft whilst surrounded by the man's perfectly pressed, tailored suits. If there had been any doubt in his mind before about his love for Mycroft, it had now been quashed.

It had been over a month since Gregory had visited Mycroft at Baskerville. Part of him wanted to return but he couldn't face it. He didn't want to stand on the other side of the glass and watch Mycroft starve himself to death. Just the thought of the pain that Mycroft was going through made him feel physically ill. He knew that Sherlock liked to visit, to watch his brother through the glass as one would a science experiment, but he couldn't do it. He often found himself wondering whether Mycroft was still sat in the cell, calmly meditating, as his body grew weaker.

One morning, he left the house to find Anthea waiting for him beside a black car.

"I'm here to take you to Baskerville." She said softly.

"You know I don't want to go back there." Gregory replied gruffly.

"I know, but as Mycroft's emergency contact, we need you." Anthea replied.

"Is he dead?" Gregory asked quietly.

"No, but he has reached his limit." Anthea replied.

"So you've found your answer, have you?" Gregory hissed, unable to keep his anger hidden any longer, "50-something days and the vampire dies from starvation?"

"Mycroft isn't dead, Greg." Anthea reassured gently, "We just can't reach him anymore. He doesn't respond to us."

"What can I do? He wouldn't lock himself away in a cell if he loved me." Gregory muttered bitterly.

Anthea smacked his arm, her own frustration beginning to show, "Mycroft allowed himself to be observed 24 hours a day for over 7 weeks so he could be with you." She snapped, "Don't you understand? Now he knows his limit, he knows how regularly he has to feed in order to prevent you from getting hurt."

"He's immortal now. Why would he stay with me?" Gregory asked, "I'm no one."

"To Mycroft you are everything." Anthea replied with a sigh, "He is currently lying in a cell with barely enough energy to lift his hand and yet he's been talking to you for the past 2 days."

"He's having hallucinations of me?" Gregory said in surprise.

Anthea nodded, "He's dying and you're the one he's imagining is there with him."

"What are we waiting for then? Drive me to Baskerville." Gregory replied, getting into the car as quickly as he could.


	7. Chapter 7

The journey had been surprisingly short - a car, a helicopter and then another car - but Gregory still felt that it took too long. Having received more information about the last seven weeks from Anthea, Gregory was even more eager to see his partner. There was only one security checkpoint that they were stopped at this time around, the others they were just waved through.

"It's that serious that we can't waste time with security?" Gregory asked Anthea.

"The sooner we can get you to him the better." Anthea replied, "He is in desperate need of blood."

"Why haven't your lot just force-fed him the blood?" Gregory asked.

"We've tried. His body keeps rejecting it." Anthea explained, "If you can wake him from the hallucinations then he might be able to keep the blood down."

Gregory sighed and shook his head, "I can't believe he's done this to himself." he said, "I'm going to be having words with him when he's better."

"As soon as he is better, we're going to be releasing him." Anthea said as they walked through the corridors, "After studying him, we have gained vital understanding about his condition. We don't believe him to be a threat to the public as his self-control is simply staggering."

"So he'll be able to come home?" Gregory asked hopefully.

"Yes. He'll be free to return home and take up his position again, is he wishes to." Anthea replied with a smile, "I am very much hoping that he will decide to return to work. It has been somewhat trying to manage everything alone."

"I'm sure he will." Gregory agreed, "He loves that job."

"No charges will be brought against him for the death of your housekeeper." Anthea said as they got into the lift, "As his service to the government and Her Majesty has been exemplary, it has been decided that the incident can be swept under the rug."

Gregory nodded, "Good, that's good." he said. He watched the small screen on the lift, his nerves increasing as the lift descended to the basement floor where Mycroft was kept.

"This way." Anthea said gently once the lift stopped and the doors opened, leading the way to the reinforced door behind which was the glass cell.

"Is there anything else that I need to know?" Gregory asked suddenly, watching Anthea swipe her card on the reader.

Anthea hesitated for a moment, "Don't be alarmed by what he's wearing." she said gently, "Both the muzzle and the straitjacket were required last week after he started biting himself."

"He's been forced to wear a muzzle for a week?!" Gregory hissed.

"It was for his own safety." Anthea replied quietly.

Gregory shook his head again and pushed the heavy door open, entering the observation room. As soon as he saw the pale, skeletal figure on the floor of the cell, he started running. He pushed his way past the scientists and rushed into the cell, landing on his knees beside the vampire.

"Mycroft?" he murmured quietly, "Mycroft, can you hear me?"

"Gregory..." Mycroft replied weakly, not moving or opening his eyes.

"I'm here, Mycroft." Gregory assured, "I'm going to get this vile muzzle off you, okay? Then we're going to get you out of that straitjacket."

"My angel..." Mycroft managed to murmur, forcing the words out.

"That's right. I'm your guardian angel and I'm here to help you." Gregory replied, reaching behind Mycroft's head to unstrap the muzzle. It was fiddly to get off but once it was finally unlocked, he threw it aside.

"There you are. There's your beautiful face." Gregory said with a sad smile, stroking his partner's cheek, "Let's get the straitjacket off now. As soon as you're out of that, we can get you some blood, okay?"

"So thirsty..." Mycroft gasped out as Gregory mentioned blood.

"I know, love, I know." Gregory replied sympathetically, "Not long now, I promise. You've done so well."

Gregory was slow and careful as he removed the straitjacket from the skeletal vampire. There were many straps and it took time to move Mycroft's arms enough to remove the sleeves. As soon as it was off, he threw it into the corner where the muzzle now lay.

"Can you open your eyes for me, Mycroft?" he asked, glancing over at Anthea as she brought in bottles of warm blood.

"You're a dream..." Mycroft murmured, "I'm alone..."

"You're not alone. I'm right here. If you open your eyes, you'll see me." Greg soothed.

A frown briefly appeared on Mycroft's face as he forced his eyes to open.

"That's it. I'm right here. Can you see me?" Gregory asked, leaning into Mycroft's field of vision.

"You're here..." Mycroft gasped out.

"I'm here." Gregory assured with a smile, "Now, let's get you fed."

"Blood..." Mycroft murmured, confusion on his face.

"I know what you need." Gregory assured, reaching over and grabbing one of the bottles, "Looks like Anthea has even warmed it up for you."

"Anthea?" Mycroft asked with a croak.

"Yes, she's here. Everyone is here." Gregory soothed, gently lifting Mycroft and resting him between his legs and against his chest.

"Dizzy..." Mycroft gasped out as he suddenly found himself sitting upright.

"I bet you are after lying on the floor for so long." Gregory replied, holding the bottle to Mycroft's lips, "I'm going to feed you some blood now. We're going to start slow. I need you to swallow it, okay?"

"Okay..." Mycroft agreed, leaning against his partner.

* * *

It was a slow process and they both ended up with blood on their hands and clothes.

"I don't know how you can drink this stuff." Gregory muttered after the third bottle, looking down at his bloodstained clothes.

"It tastes good." Mycroft replied with a slight smile, turning his head to look at Gregory. He was beginning to regain his mobility but it would take lots of blood over a regular period to regain his weight and a healthy complexion.

"Well, as long as you like it..." Gregory chuckled softly.

"How long did I last?" Mycroft asked, leaning against his partner.

"52 days." Gregory replied, "You're not to do anything like this again though, okay?"

"I won't, Gregory. I promise." Mycroft assured, "As interesting as this experiment has been, I'm in no rush to repeat it."


	8. Chapter 8

"Have you got everything you need?" Gregory asked, fussing over his partner.

"Gregory, it's not my first day of school." Mycroft replied with a smile, reaching out and taking the other man's hand.

"No, but it is your first day back after being locked up for weeks." Gregory pointed out.

"Yes, but for two of those weeks I've been imprisoned here by you." Mycroft replied with a chuckle.

"That was for your own good and you know it." Gregory said, "I was hardly going to let you waltz around at work while you were as skinny as a rake."

"Thank you, Gregory. I do appreciate it." Mycroft assured, squeezing his hand.

"Now, have you got everything?" Gregory asked again, worry on his face.

Mycroft rolled his eyes and let go of Gregory's hand, lifting his briefcase and opening it up on the sideboard, "As you can see, I've got everything I need." he assured, "Two bottles of blood, briefing files from Anthea, my house keys, my phone, my laptop."

"Have you got your gun?" Gregory asked, glancing in the briefcase before he looked back at Mycroft.

"In the holster." Mycroft assured, "Although I'll hardly need it now, will I?"

"I don't think vampires are completely immune to physical harm." Gregory replied, "Just keep it with you. You never know when you might need to defend yourself."

"Gregory, my work is rarely dangerous. I am just going to the office, not out into the field." Mycroft pointed out gently.

"You were bitten at work, Mycroft." Gregory replied with a frown, "I know I can't protect you from things but I want to be certain that you are able to protect yourself."

"Thank you, my dear." Mycroft replied, leaning in and stealing a kiss.

Gregory moved in closer and deepened the kiss, reluctant to let his partner go back to work so soon.

"I have to go, Gregory." Mycroft murmured, speaking against Gregory's lips as he pulled back.

"I'll see you later." Gregory replied with a slight sigh, "Be careful."

"Always." Mycroft assured with a smile, giving him one last kiss before he pulled away and put his coat on.

Gregory smiled nervously as he watched Mycroft pick up his briefcase and umbrella before leaving the house. He leaned back against the sideboard and took a few moments to calm himself before he prepared to leave for work himself. It was difficult letting Mycroft go back to work again after what had happened. They'd enjoyed two weeks of leave together after Mycroft had starved himself and Gregory was reluctant to go back to their work routines.

* * *

"Welcome back, Mr Holmes." Anthea greeted with a smile, meeting him at the doors of their building.

"Anthea, it's good to see you." Mycroft replied, handing his briefcase to her.

"I'm to take you to see Lady Smallwood before we go to our office." Anthea said, leading the way to the lift.

"Oh? Usually Elizabeth visits us." Mycroft replied, following her into the lift.

"I think she's keen for the meeting to be on safe, familiar territory." Anthea admitted with a slight chuckle.

Mycroft rolled his eyes, "I'm hardly going to rip her throat out on first sight."

"No one knows what to expect of you." Anthea explained quietly, "The higher-ups know the truth and are plotting how they can use your new skill. Everyone else is curious as to why you were gone for so long and they're just as terrified of you as they were before."

"Well, fear can certainly be used to our advantage." Mycroft admitted, "Do ensure that you play the doting yet terrified assistant."

Anthea laughed softly, "Yes, Sir." she replied, leading the way out of the lift and down to Lady Smallwood's office.

"Enter." Lady Smallwood called from inside the office after Anthea had knocked.

"Lady Smallwood." Mycroft said with a tight smile as he entered the office and strolled over to her desk.

"Mycroft." Lady Smallwood replied with a slight smile, standing up from behind her desk. She paused for a moment, unsure how to greet him.

"Anthea, please wait outside." Mycroft said without glancing back at his assistant.

"No, Anthea. Stay." Lady Smallwood said, not allowing her gaze to leave Mycroft.

"I'm not going to eat you, you know." Mycroft sighed, sitting down in one of the chairs opposite the desk.

"I don't know that." Lady Smallwood replied, "You're not human anymore."

"Being a vampire doesn't make me want to go on a killing spree." Mycroft said, "I can hear your heartbeat and I can smell your blood, but as long as I feed regularly then it isn't an issue."

"If it does become an issue then you will be removed from your position." Lady Smallwood replied sharply.

"Naturally." Mycroft agreed, "I wouldn't expect any less."

"It's good to see you, Mycroft." Lady Smallwood admitted, sitting back down at her desk.

"It's good to see you too, Elizabeth." Mycroft replied with a warm smile, "Has the PM been managed during my absence?"

"Of course. We were hardly going to let the PM make decisions alone." Lady Smallwood replied with a chuckle.

"If you'll excuse me, Lady Smallwood, I have business to attend to." Mycroft admitted, getting up from the chair.

"Will you be attending the weekly meeting tomorrow?" Lady Smallwood asked.

"Of course. You know I enjoy them." Mycroft replied with a chuckle.

"You're too harsh with the younger managers." Lady Smallwood said.

"If they can't manage their staff and resources correctly then they deserve a harsh talking to." Mycroft replied as he walked to the door, "Come along, Anthea."


	9. Chapter 9

The interrogation had been going on for hours now and Mycroft was beginning to feel the familiar ache in the back of his throat. He glanced at his watch and tried not to think of the bottles of blood that were waiting for him in his office.

"Got somewhere better to be, have you?" the suspected terrorist sneered as he watched Mycroft glance at his watch.

"Yes, actually." Mycroft replied, "I have a rather busy schedule that you're currently keeping me from."

The man laughed, "I'm not going to tell you anything." he hissed, "I'll die for my cause."

"Go ahead and die for your cause then." Mycroft said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"You can't tell me to die while I'm in custody!" the man protested, "I'm pretty sure that's emotional abuse and is against my human rights!"

Mycroft rolled his eyes and stood up, "Your human rights are meaningless to me." he said, "Do you want to know why?"

"Alright. I'll humour you. I've nothing better to do." the man sighed, "Why are my human rights meaningless to you?"

"Because I'm not human." Mycroft replied with a dark smile, "Which means that your petty human rights don't apply to me."

The man laughed mockingly, "What kind of sick joke is that?"

"You really should stop laughing." Mycroft replied, "I'm not in the mood for laughter."

"I'll keep doing it then." the man hissed and continued to laugh.

Mycroft dived and grabbed the man's throat in an iron grip, "No. More. Laughter." he said menacingly, shaking the man a little, "I'm thirsty and you're not helping."

As soon as Mycroft let go of his throat, the man looked towards the one-way glass, "Don't leave me in here with him! You can't leave me here!" he shouted.

"This is what's going to happen." Mycroft said, beginning to pace around the room, "You're going to tell me what terrorist connections you have or I'm going to drain you of every last drop of your blood."

"What are you?" the man asked with wide eyes.

"I'm a vampire." Mycroft replied, turning to face him slightly.

"What?" the man gasped, "You can't be! They don't exist!"

"I do exist and I'm locked in here with you for the foreseeable future." Mycroft said with a slight smirk, "You've got to make a decision because I'm already thirsty and it's way past my lunch time."

"They'll kill me if I tell." the man muttered, looking down at his cuffed hands.

"Yes, probably." Mycroft agreed with a nod, "But I'll kill you if you don't tell me, and believe me, you don't want to be drained to death."

"I'll tell you, I'll tell you." the man eventually said, raising his hands a little in surrender, "Just sit back down over there, okay?"

"Why?" Mycroft asked, leaning in so the man could feel his breath against his throat, "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"Get away from me!" the man yelled, leaning away from him.

Mycroft chuckled and moved away, sitting back down on the opposite side of the table, "So, where would you like to start?"

* * *

"Another successful interrogation, Mycroft." Sir Edwin complemented, "You really do have a particular way with suspects."

"My new...status...is certainly proving helpful." Mycroft replied, pacing his office a little.

"You really are thirsty, aren't you?" Sir Edwin asked, "I thought you were just saying that to scare him."

Mycroft shook his head, "It scared him because it was real." he replied.

"Am I in danger?" Sir Edwin asked calmly, his hand moving subconsciously towards the gun holster under his jacket.

Mycroft rolled his eyes, "Don't be ridiculous." he said, "No one is in danger from me."

"You're pacing." Sir Edwin replied with a frown.

"Yes. The thirst is somewhat irritating." Mycroft explained, "My mind slows when I'm thirsty. It's essential that I stick to my feeding schedule to get the best from my mind."

Sir Edwin laughed softly, "You're always thinking about work." he said.

"Of course. Work is what I do best." Mycroft replied with a slight smile.

Anthea knocked on the door, carrying a warm mug of blood, "Mr Holmes, I have your-" she stopped when she saw Sir Edwin.

"It's alright, Anthea. Sir Edwin is well aware of my condition." Mycroft said, beckoning her over.

"Good afternoon, Sir Edwin." Anthea greeted politely as she walked over to Mycroft and handed him the mug.

"I think we're more evening than afternoon at this time." Sir Edwin chuckled, looking at Anthea to avoid watching Mycroft drink the blood.

"You spoil me, Anthea." Mycroft murmured after a few sips of the warm liquid, "Gregory is most unwilling to heat the blood."

"I say, it's quite a distinctive aroma, isn't it?" Sir Edwin said, looking over at Mycroft.

"It takes some getting used to." Anthea agreed with a nod, "I'll just be outside, Mr Holmes."

"Thank you, Anthea." Mycroft replied, watching her leave.

"Is it better now then?" Sir Edwin asked, "Your thirst, I mean?"

Mycroft nodded, "It's like having a refreshing cup of tea." he replied, "One can't rush it."

"Do you need me to...?" Sir Edwin trailed off. He was clearly uncomfortable with his colleague's new ability.

"Sir Edwin, there really is no danger to you or anyone else in the building." Mycroft assured, putting the mug down on his desk, "You are well aware of the results of my little starvation experiment."

"Starving yourself in a sealed box away from humans is one thing, Mycroft, but we have no idea how you'd react to severe thirst in a crowded building." Sir Edwin pointed out with a frown.

"I have it under control." Mycroft replied.

"Do you?" Sir Edwin asked with a raised eyebrow, "Do you really?"

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't in control." Mycroft said simply.

"You're still learning about yourself at the same time that we're learning about you." Sir Edwin sighed, "I think that perhaps it's unwise for you to be in the building, Mycroft."

"What would you prefer?" Mycroft hissed taking a step towards Sir Edwin, "A padded cell next door to my sister?"

"That's one solution." Sir Edwin replied, calmly withdrawing his gun from its holster.

Mycroft took a step closer, "You know me, Sir Edwin." he said, "I would never do anything to jeopardize the lives of my staff."

"I knew the human Mycroft." Sir Edwin replied, "If you take another step towards me then I will shoot you."

"On what grounds?" Mycroft asked.

"Self defence." Sir Edwin replied, removing the safety from the gun.

Mycroft sighed and backed away, sitting down beside his desk, "I'm not a threat and I won't be leaving this office." he said, "I am needed by both Queen and country."

"Yes, you are needed." Sir Edwin agreed, "But you don't need to be in this office to carry out your work."

Mycroft barely had a moment to blink before the gun went off and a silver bullet hit him in the chest.


	10. Chapter 10

Mycroft let out a growl as the bullet tore into his chest.

"It's not self defence if I'm sitting down." he hissed at the man with the gun.

"Silver bullets have no real effect on you then?" Sir Edwin asked, firing another shot.

"Stop firing!" Mycroft growled, getting up from the chair.

"Why?" Sir Edwin replied calmly.

"Because you're wasting your bullets." Mycroft said, "Look at me. I'm not bleeding out or struggling to stand."

"Mr Holmes, I heard shots." Anthea said, pushing the office door open and pointing her gun at Sir Edwin.

"Be careful, Anthea." Mycroft warned, "Sir Edwin is clearly having some sort of breakdown."

"I've known about vampires my whole life." Sir Edwin said, "My uncle believed in them and told me how to defend myself."

"Don't tell me, garlic, crosses and silver bullets?" Mycroft asked with a smirk, "That's clearly not working out for you, is it?"

"I won't let you take innocent lives!" Sir Edwin hissed, firing again as Mycroft dived for the gun.

Mycroft pulled the gun out of his grasp and bent the barrel, preventing it from firing any more bullets.

"I have no intention of taking innocent lives." Mycroft replied, "I rely on donated blood from the hospitals."

"I know what you did to that woman." Sir Edwin hissed.

"That was an accident." Mycroft sighed, "I had no idea what I was and I didn't know what I was doing. Now I'm aware of the thirst, I can control it."

"You'll never be fully in control." Sir Edwin replied as Anthea cuffed him, "Your thirst will destroy you."

"Perhaps." Mycroft agreed, "But I intend to fight it for as long as possible. Take him to Lady Smallwood, Anthea."

"Yes, Sir." Anthea replied, leading Sir Edwin away.

Mycroft shut the door of the office and looked down at his chest. He had no idea what to do about the bullet wounds. He didn't seem to be bleeding or having any adverse reaction to the silver but he knew that the bullets would need to be removed. With a frustrated sigh, he pulled out his mobile and called Dr John Watson.

* * *

"Silver, eh?" John murmured as he carefully removed one of the bullets, "Was your attacker a wannabe vampire hunter?"

"Something like that." Mycroft replied, lying still on the desk to allow John to work.

"How are you coping with it all?" John asked, "It must be quite a change."

"John, do we have to do this?" Mycroft sighed.

"I'm just trying to make conversation, Mycroft." John replied with a huff, "You don't have to be so defensive."

"Very well." Mycroft said with a frown, "The change has been unexpected. I have gained many abilities, such as better eyesight and hearing, improved strength and speed, but drinking blood is definitely a drawback."

"How is Greg handling it?" John asked, removing the second bullet and placing it on the side of the desk.

"Gregory continues to amaze me." Mycroft admitted quietly, "Despite this sudden change, he offers me love and affection without any hesitation."

"You know that you haven't become a monster overnight, right?" John said gently, "I mean, you're still you. You don't scare any of us."

"You looked afraid when you discovered that I had no heartbeat." Mycroft replied.

John chuckled, "Okay, you got me. That whole evening was scary." he said, "We thought you'd gone mad and we're all very glad that's not the case."

"I am unsure whether I'm mad or not." Mycroft admitted, considering for a moment, "The thirst is more irritating than maddening."

"Okay, all done." John said, removing the last bullet, "Do you know what happens now?"

Mycroft sat up a little and looked down at the bullet holes in his chest, "I presume that they will heal once I've had some blood, but I'm unsure. Every day is educational at the moment."

John put his medical kit away in his bag, "You can call us, you know. Me and Sherlock. Anytime you need anything." he said awkwardly.

"Thank you for your kind offer, John." Mycroft replied as he buttoned his shirt and waistcoat.

"Try not to get shot again. I'm pretty sure Greg won't be too happy if you do." John said as he pulled on his coat and moved towards the door.

"How is my brother, John?" Mycroft asked as he moved his ornaments and paperwork back onto the desk, "How does he feel about my change?"

John paused, "I never really know what Sherlock is thinking, but I don't think he's afraid of you." he admitted, "He's fascinated, jealous almost."

"Jealous?" Mycroft replied with a raised eyebrow.

"You now have all the time in the world to think and to discover life's wonders." John explained, "Sherlock envies your immortality."


	11. Chapter 11

"I do apologize for the actions of Sir Edwin." Lady Smallwood said as she stood in front of Mycroft's desk, "I assure you that his opinion isn't shared by the rest of us in the department."

"I don't expect to be shot in my own office, Elizabeth." Mycroft replied, not looking up from the paperwork he was currently working on.

"I know and I apologize on Sir Edwin's behalf." Lady Smallwood said, moving a little closer to the desk, "Mycroft, none of us want to hurt you."

Mycroft sighed and put down his pen, "I don't appreciate being treated as though I am some feral animal." he said, "I am perfectly in control."

"Perhaps we could come to an agreement?" Lady Smallwood suggested, sitting down in one of the chairs opposite the desk.

"What kind of agreement?" Mycroft asked with a frown.

"You have certain abilities now. Perhaps you could use them on missions?" Lady Smallwood said.

Mycroft scoffed, "You know how I feel about _legwork_."

"You're stronger now and faster than any human agent." she replied, "We could use you."

"So in Sir Edwin's opinion, killing innocents is bad but carrying out hits is fine?" Mycroft chuckled, "No, Elizabeth. I'm not going to become a weapon for the government."

"We could offer you benefits." she continued, "A higher salary, more access to certain institutions."

Mycroft shook his head, "You could offer me the throne and I'd still turn you down."

"Why?" she asked curiously.

"I enjoy what I do and I have no interest in stepping out into the field or into the light." Mycroft replied, "I am of most use to Her Majesty's Government when I am sat here problem solving and negotiating."

"Very well, that's your choice." Lady Smallwood sighed, standing up again, "The offer remains on the table, if you ever wish to indulge your feral animal side."

Mycroft chuckled and shook his head, picking up his pen again, "I'm hardly feral, Elizabeth. I have tailors."

* * *

"Anthea." Mycroft said from beside his PA's desk.

Anthea let out a yelp and dropped the stapler that she was holding.

"Don't do that!" she exclaimed, setting the stapler upright and turning to face him, "How can I help you, Sir?"

Mycroft chuckled softly, "Am I really that silent?"

"Yes." Anthea insisted, "You've done that three times now and each time I didn't hear you or notice you until you spoke."

"Interesting. Perhaps it's a hunting technique?" Mycroft mused, considering for a moment before he looked back at her, "I need you to have Sherlock watched more closely than usual."

"Do you think that there will be a danger night?" Anthea asked, her tone becoming serious.

"According to John, Sherlock is jealous of my new abilities." Mycroft replied, "This leads me to believe that he may attempt to use himself as bait to attract a vampire."

"Do you know of any other vampires in the area?" Anthea asked.

"No. Only myself and the one in the cells." Mycroft replied, "However knowing Sherlock, he'll already have tracked down half a dozen of them."

"I understand, Sir. I'll increase the amount of personnel watching him." Anthea said, making a note in her notepad.

"Excellent, thank you." Mycroft replied, walking away into his office. His pace was just a little too quick for a human.

* * *

"How did it go?" Gregory asked with a smile, waiting for Mycroft in the hallway of their shared home.

"It was eventful." Mycroft admitted as he removed his coat and hung it up on the coat stand.

"That doesn't sound good." Gregory sighed, moving to sit back on the stairs, "What happened?"

"Sir Edwin shot me three times." Mycroft said casually.

"What?" Gregory hissed, getting up and rushing over, "Are you hurt?"

"He used silver bullets but they had no effect." Mycroft replied, "I'm fine, the bullet holes healed this afternoon."

Gregory pulled his partner into a hug, "I don't want you going back to that office if they're just going to hurt you."

"They're all scared and ex-agents dislike being scared." Mycroft explained as he held on to Gregory.

"So? That doesn't give them any excuse. You're scared and you're not freaking out." Gregory replied, stepping back to look at him.

"What makes you think that I'm scared?" Mycroft asked curiously.

Gregory scoffed, "Come on, Mycroft, even you can't honestly be unaffected by something like this. Your life has changed completely."

"I'm not scared." Mycroft replied, pulling out his gun from its holster, "I'm just angry."

"Angry?" Gregory repeated, his eyes widening when he saw the gun, "Mycroft, put that down."

"Why me? Why now? Who organized it?" Mycroft hissed, firing the gun at the wall after each question.

"Jesus, Mycroft! Stop!" Gregory shouted, reaching for the gun, "Stop it before someone calls the police!"

"You are the police." Mycroft replied with a sigh, handing over the gun.

"Exactly. I don't like being called out to see angry people with guns." Gregory chuckled softly, removing the clip from the gun. He put the gun on the sideboard and went over to the other wall, examining the bullet holes in the wallpaper.

"You and your brother are more similar than you think." he said with a smile, turning to face his partner. His smile dropped immediately.

Mycroft was sat on the floor, his back to the paneling with his head in his hands.

"Mycroft?" Gregory murmured, hurrying over and kneeling beside him, "It's alright, Mycroft."

"It's not alright, Gregory." Mycroft replied, his voice muffled by his hands, "I can't even work without them taking potshots at me."

"Things are going to be difficult for a little while but then everything will get better." Gregory reassured, putting his arm around Mycroft and pulling him into a hug, "It will get easier, Mycroft."

"All they want to know is whether I'm in control but I don't know if I'm in control. How can I possibly know?" Mycroft sighed, "It's just as new to me as it is to them."

"I know." Gregory murmured, "Everyone is learning about this together."

"I'm sorry about the wall." Mycroft said after a few moments of quiet.

Gregory laughed, "It's fine." He assured, "I've never liked that wallpaper."


	12. Chapter 12

Sleep was a concept that Mycroft had never really thought much about before. He'd always considered it an inconvenient essential, despite understanding the medical need for it. It was only now, as a being that would never know sleep again, that Mycroft could truly sit back and examine the everyday process of sleep. He spent hours watching Gregory toss and turn under the covers, trying to deduce the man's dreams through his body language and incoherent mumblings.

It was only after a few nights of watching his partner sleep that Mycroft realised he could use the long night-time hours for deep thinking. Closing his eyes and letting himself travel to his mind palace was always relaxing when he'd been human, but as a vampire it offered a whole new level of peace and tranquillity. Initially, he spent time stepping into his memories and reliving his past, before he moved on to using the time for work-based problem solving.

"Myc? Mycroft." Gregory's voice rang loud and clear through Mycroft's mind palace, pulling him away from the problem he'd been working to solve, "Mycroft, wake up."

Mycroft opened his eyes and looked over at his partner, "I wasn't asleep, Gregory. I was thinking." he replied.

"You're trembling." Gregory admitted, reaching out to touch Mycroft's arm, "Is something wrong?"

"The trembling will pass. It always does." Mycroft answered dismissively, "Go back to sleep, Gregory."

"Does this happen often? You've never mentioned it to me." Gregory said with a frown.

"It really is nothing to worry about. My body is craving exercise, a hunt in particular. Vampires apparently don't enjoy sedentary office work." Mycroft chuckled, "It is nothing."

"Perhaps we should book a weekend break? We could go to a forest or to somewhere remote so you can stretch your legs." Gregory suggested, "I know that you can move faster now, so I imagine you can run faster too. You probably just need a good run to get rid of excess energy."

"An interesting theory." Mycroft murmured, considering the idea, "I have yet to use my treadmill, perhaps that would be sufficient to provide me with some exercise?"

"Perhaps." Gregory agreed, leaning closer, "Does it really not bother you? My blood, I mean."

"It does bother me." Mycroft admitted softly, reaching out and placing his hand on the human's chest over his heart, "I can hear your blood rushing through your veins and it smells delicious. I want to bite you and drink from you but I know that I would be lost without you. I love you, Gregory, I could never kill you."

"You wouldn't need to kill me. You could just bite and taste." Gregory suggested, joining their hands.

Mycroft chuckled, "As delightful as that sounds, I will have to pass. The risk is too great to you."

"Suit yourself." Gregory teased, settling back down beside Mycroft and letting himself drift back into sleep.

Mycroft sighed quietly, watching Gregory's chest rise and fall with gentle breaths. He'd always done his best to protect his partner from danger but he had no idea how to protect Gregory from himself. He was a monster and it would only be a matter of time before Gregory got hurt.

* * *

"I disagree with you." Anthea said, standing opposite Mycroft in his office.

"You don't have to agree, you have to follow my orders. That is the point of you, after all." Mycroft snapped coldly.

"You're making a mistake." Anthea sighed, "Mycroft, please, see reason."

"I didn't ask for your opinion. I asked for you to evict Detective Inspector Lestrade from my home." Mycroft replied warningly.

"Why? What will that achieve?" Anthea shouted, "You love him and he loves you! Why on earth would you want to send him away?"

Mycroft appeared beside her and roughly shoved her against the wall, "I can't hurt him!" he hissed, "Do you understand? He needs to go so I can't hurt him!"

Anthea's face softened slightly, "You're not going to hurt him. You're in control."

"And what about the day I'm thirsty and he cuts himself? Or if I decide his blood is just too good to resist?" Mycroft demanded, "What then?"

"It's your decision, but I believe you're doing more harm than good." Anthea admitted.

Mycroft stepped back and turned away from her, "Just do it, Anthea. I would rather a lifetime of misery while Gregory lives than to have him die by my hand."

"Yes, Sir." Anthea replied, gently squeezing his arm to comfort him as she walked past him and out of the office.

* * *

"Greg. Can I have a word?" Anthea asked softly from the doorway of the DI's office at New Scotland Yard.

"Hi Anthea, come on in. How are you?" Gregory asked, closing his file to give Anthea his full attention.

Anthea closed the office door and moved closer to the desk but didn't sit down, "I have something to tell you and you're not going to like it." she admitted.

"Is Mycroft alright?" Gregory asked, moving to stand.

"Greg, he asked me to evict you from the house." Anthea sighed, placing the signed document on the desk, "You have 24 hours to remove your things from Mr Holmes' house."

"Please tell me that this is some kind of joke?" Gregory groaned, "I know what he's doing. He's pushing me away isn't he? Just because he's a bloody vampire doesn't change how I feel about him."

"I know." Anthea replied gently, "But Mr Holmes believes that he's going to harm you."

"Well Mr Holmes is an idiot then, isn't he?" Gregory snapped, "That house is my home as much as it is his. I'm not leaving."

"I'll make him aware of your decision." Anthea replied with a nod, moving back towards the door.

"You can tell him that if he wants me to leave then he's going to have to say that to my face." Gregory called as she quickly left the office.


End file.
